


Sherlock Kindergarten AU Work in progress

by Englands_Scones



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Adult!John, Adult!Molly, Adult!Mrs. Hudson, Adult!Stamford, Alternate Universe - Kindergarten & Pre-school, And so is Jim, Bully!Moriarty, Children, Demonic!Moriarty, F/M, Funny, Halloween, Hanging lego minifigs, Humor, Jump ropes, Kid!Anderson, Kid!Donovan, Kid!Henry Knight, Kid!Irene, Kid!Lestrade, Kid!Moran, Kid!Mycroft!, Kindergarten Detective, Kindergartners, M/M, Moriarty is disturbed, Moriarty vs Sherlock, Mycroft carries his umbrella everywhere, Mycroft only eats sweets for a snack, Pirates, Pranks, Rivalry, Sherlock is infatuated with John, Spoof Cases, Swearing, kid!Sherlock, kid!moriarty, kid!mycroft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2018-12-22 13:39:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11968545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Englands_Scones/pseuds/Englands_Scones
Summary: John is a kindergarten teacher. Chaos ensues.





	1. Show and Tell

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Toddles and Love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1725734) by [ImmortalVal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImmortalVal/pseuds/ImmortalVal). 



> Oh God - Guess what Sherlock decides to bring for show and tell?

John walked out of his flat at around 6:35 am. It was a cool morning in London, and John had to get to his new job. He sighed and wrapped his arms around his jumper in an effort to conserve body heat. He slightly regretted his new career. Kindergarten. He was a kindergarten teacher, which was, in his opinion, one of the worst careers in the world, right up there with elephant dung shovellers and politicians. He hailed a cab and climbed in.  
"Baker Street Kindergarten." he told the cabby.  
The cabby turned to look at him, his eyes filled with pity. "I'll drop you off a block away from there. I ain't goin' any nearer than I have too." he said.  
John nodded, worry creeping up in the back of his mind.  
'Dear God - What have I gotten myself into?' he thought to himself.

The building could have been a school... oh wait... it was. It was shabby and crusty and dusty and had an ill feeling of foreboding emanating around it. Suddenly, a woman ran out, screaming about 'crayons' apparently. John pushed the worry back from his mind and walked in.

It was a nice little institute, the floors were polished and buffed so that you could see your reflection in there. A woman with her dark auburn hair in a tight bun looked up at him. "My name is Evensley Ainley, may I help you?" she asked, eyeing him over a pair of spectacles.  
"I'm... Um... I'm the new teacher for classroom 221B... I was wondering where it is." John said, shifting uncomfortably on his feet.  
The front desk woman flashed him a look of pity. "Down the hall, third door on your left." she said.  
John nodded. "Thank you." he said.  
"Good luck. You'll need it."

At about 9:43 am, the children started arriving. First was a young boy, about six, in a pinstriped suit with an umbrella on his arm. Following behind him was a younger lad with messy black curls and a permanent scowl on his face.  
"My name's Mycroft. Umbrella Cake Mycroft Holmes." Mycroft said, formally taking John's hand and shaking it with his own. "This is my little brother, William Sherlock Scott Holmes. More often known as Sherlock."  
Sherlock stuck his tongue out at John.  
"Sherlock, show some manners." Mycroft said firmly to his younger brother.  
Sherlock grumbled an obscene word (that no kindergartner should know), and walked over to John and kicked him in the right leg.  
"$#!^!!!!" John exclaimed, hopping on his left leg. "That bloody hurt!"  
Suddenly, Sherlock's eyes lit up. "Blood? Did you say blood?!" he asked eagerly. "C'mon then John! The Game is on! We'll find who was the source of the Bloody hurt!"  
"You will call me Mr. Watson." John said pointedly.

Suddenly, Three other kids walked in the room, escorted by Molly Hooper.  
"Introduce yourselves." she told them. "Go on."  
A silver-haired little boy walked up to John first, a water gun in his hand. "My name is Greg Lestrade! I want to be a police man! BANG! BANG!" he shouted, squirting John with the water gun.  
Next was a little black girl with frizzy hair. "My name's Sally Donovan, and if you make me angry, I'll kick your arse!!!" she said, showing him her tiny meaty fists.  
"Language Sally!" Molly sighed. Sherlock deduced that Donovan must use swear words a lot, by the exasperated tone that Molly spoke with. Sally walked off to go play coppers with Lestrade. The last of the three was a young boy with dark brown hair and his finger up his nose.  
"Ma nam iz Philip Anderson." he said, shaking John's hand with his bogey-encrusted one. "Nas ta met you." he said, before walking off.

A few minutes later, Anderson, Donovan, and Lestrade were on the floor playing coppers. Lestrade was shooting Donovan, who cursed loudly as she got sprayed with water. Anderson, on the other hand, was slicing open a burgundy coloured rabbit with an... xacto knife?  
John looked at Anderson and did a double take. Yes, he wasn't seeing things. Anderson really was cutting open a bunny with a really sharp and dangerous object. John swooped over him and grabbed the knife from the five year old's bogey-encrusted fingers.

"Anderson! Don't use xacto knives! They're dangerous and deadly and you could die!" John exclaimed, throwing the knife in a locked cabinet that also contained Sherlock's gun, Mycroft's sword that was hidden in his umbrella, and Donovan's phone which he confiscated when he found her watching gay hentai.

He sighed, "Well, it can't get much worse, can it?" he mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose with his left hand. John spoke too soon.  
If there was any kid worse than these evil, bogey-encrusted goblins, it was him...

Jim Moriarty.

Jim was a innocent looking boy with the mind of an evil criminal mastermind. On a first glance, you'd be like 'aw precious,' then you'd do a double take and realize he had a bloody knife in his right hand and a can of beer in his left. Ah yes, Jim Moriarty was no saint. It just so happened that on this day, the first day of the school year, Moriarty had found it fit to down an entire bottle of Guinness before attending. 

"The name's Moriarty," he slurred, "Jim Moriarty." he gave a hiccup and fell forward on his face, snoring deeply.

"Okay." John said awkwardly, "Right, okay. So, who wants to do show and tell?" he asked.

The kids went into hysterics. Sherlock wanted to go first, but so did Donovan. The two got into a very heated argument that resulted in Donovan hitting him over the head with a plastic cricket bat. John had to call sweet Mrs. Hudson from room 221a to help assist him in pulling the two apart. Donovan was sentenced to five minutes in the corner for physical assault, and Sherlock was given an ice pack. 

Seeing that Donovan would be spending a little time in the corner, John only saw it fit that Sherlock should start show and tell, and it was one of the worst mistakes he'd ever made. 

Sherlock walked into the center of the ring of chairs with a large lump, about the size of a football (soccer ball for you Americans out there), under his coat. "M-my name's Sherlock." he said, slightly nervous. "and I brought Billy for my show and tell." He pulled out a human skull. Like a real - motherfucking human skull.

You could hear Mycroft face-palm from his chair. "Oh God - Sherlock! Mummy told you not to bring him." he groaned.

Sherlock ignored his words and spoke a little louder, glaring daggers at his brother. "Billy is my oldest friend, and I personally don't care what that old cowpat tells me." Sherlock spat at his brother. Billy blushed.

Mycroft rose from his seat, his eyes blazing with fury. "Mummy is not a cowpat." he said, with visible effort of trying to keep calm. "You two just don't see eye-to-eye."

John looked at the two bickering brothers, having no clue how to stop the two. Then he thought about the gun and the sword. 'Thank God those two didn't have those at the moment.' He had heard the saying once, from his dad. 'Those who live by the sword, get shot by those who don't.' He smiled inwardly, 'At least I did something right.' he thought to himself.

Right at the moment, it woke up. Moriarty pushed himself up from where he collapsed. John supposed it had smelled chaos and wanted in, like Peeves the Poltergeist from Harry Potter. 

A mental image flashed in John's brain. Moriarty cackling and floating around in midair, egging the two Holmes brothers on. "When there's strife and when there's trouble, call on Moriarty, he'll make it double!" 

Moriarty, at this moment, was throwing chalk at the brothers, and was indeed, egging them on.


	2. The Curse of Classroom 221b

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pirates. That's all I'm going to say.

"And that's what happened." John said, taking a swig of ale.  
"Damn. That sounds pretty bad, mate." Mike Stamford said, laughing nervously. John rolled his eyes.  
"You wouldn't believe half of what I've got to say." the blonde said.  
"Try me."  
"Little Jim Moriarty came to school drunk, Sherlock had a gun and a skull named Billy, Sally Donovan knows more curse words than most twenty year old men, and Philip Anderson was performing an autopsy on a stuffed rabbit. And I'm getting a new little monster today that has a homicidal tendency." John sighed.  
Mike blinked at him owlishly. "You're kidding!" he gasped.  
"No I'm not. Little Sebastian Moran has a record. He nearly killed his teacher with a blunt pencil."  
"Nothing you can't handle, right mate?" Mike said, clapping him on the back.

The next day, a Tuesday in fact, John took a cab to the kindergarten, the cabby dropped him off a block away. As he walked into the classroom to get everything in order, Sherlock jumped out of his hiding place dressed up in a dragon costume, smoking a.... What the fuck was a kindergartner doing with a cigarette?!  
"Sherlock, where the hell did you get that?!" John exclaimed, yanking the stick of death out of his mouth. Sherlock gasped.  
"John! You're a POTTY MOUTH!!!" he exclaimed.  
"You've said worse! And it's Mr. Watson to you." John scolded.  
Sherlock didn't seem to hear him as he was dancing around the room singing, "POTTY MOUTH, POTTY MOUTH, MOTHERFUCKING POTTY MOUTH!!!"  
Mycroft walked up to John and tugged on his sleeve.  
"Do excuse my younger brother." he said. "Sherlock has no consideration for manners. Mummy disdained." Mycroft pulled out a cigarette and lit it.  
"Oi! No smoking in 221b!" John said, nicking Mycroft's fag.  
"You can't do that! I'll have you arrested you know! I hold a minor position in the British Government!"  
"He is the British Government." Sherlock whispered into John's ear.... wait... how the fuck did he even get up there?  
John turned to see Sherlock flying. Like literately flying in his dragon costume.  
"What the?!!!!"  
"I am Smaug the Destroyer!" Sherlock bellowed, "I am fire, I am death!"  
"Yeah, sure you are, oh Smaug the Unassessably Wealthy." John said, rolling his eyes.  
"Do you think flattery will save you?!!!"

An hour later, the kids.... goblins... started to arrive. First was Lestrade, Anderson, and Donovan, as usual.  
They were pretty easy to take care of, as they would always go off to play 'Scotland Yard.'  
Next came in Irene Adler, Jeff Hope, and Henry Knight, who had been absent the day before.  
Then came Moriarty, who proceeded to hang all the LEGO minifigures from the ceiling. How he got up there, John didn't want to know.  
Finally in came little Sebastian Moran, carrying a SNIPER RIFLE ON HIS BACK???!!!! Why the front desk lady didn't confiscate it was beyond him.

Little Sebby and Jim hooked instantly. Soon they were talking about who they wanted to murder and their favourite poisons. (Moriarty's was Sodium Cyanide) Mycroft kept a close eye on them, he hid behind the building blocks.  
"What are you doing?" John asked, startling the older Holmes brother.  
"Shhh!!!" Mycroft hissed, "I'm putting them on Level Five Surveillance!"  
"Okay..... Right...." John said awkwardly.  
Suddenly, a screech echoed across the room. 

"COME BACK HERE THIEF!!!!" Sherlock bellowed, chasing after poor Henry.  
"I'm not a hobbit! I promise!" Knight shrieked.  
"Your big ears say differently!" Sherlock said.  
"Help! Mr. Watson!!!"  
"Oi! Smauglock!" John said, picking up the squirming fire drake. "Stop!"  
"NO!"  
"I'll play pirates with you." John bargained. On Sherlock's report, it mentioned his love for pirates.  
"Pirates?!" Sherlock exclaimed, his eyes as wide as dinner plates.  
"Yes pirates."  
"I'll do it!" Sherlock exclaimed, wiggling out of his dragon suit.

John didn't know how it happened. One moment he was first mate, the next he was being forced to walk the plank, tied up with jump ropes.  
"Can we talk this out?" John asked. He was barefoot and was being forced to jump on a mound of tiny legos.  
"Nar! Ye made me tea wrong! Ye be payin' for ye mutinous act, First Mate John!"  
"It's Mr. Watson! And it was a cup of water!"  
"Argh! Now ye be lying to your captain! Send him to Davy Jones' locker, Second Mate Gavin!"  
"It's Greg!" the silver-haired five year old said, poking John in the back.  
"Whatever! Push the traitor off the plank!" Sherlock bellowed.  
Greg rolled his eyes and poked John in the buttocks with his foam sword, sending the teacher into the merciless waves of the sea of LEGOs.  
"ARGHHHH!!!! SHIT!!! DAMMIT!!!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wondering what happened to the front desk lady, and why she didn't confiscate Moran's rifle? Just ask the new school ghost.
> 
> Reporter: Ms. Ainley, how are you today?  
> Evensley: Dead.  
> Reporter: May I ask you how you got that bullet hole in your head?  
> Evensley: A kindergartner named Sebastian Moran shot me after I tried to take away his gun.  
> Reporter: Wow! What a story! Well, that's all today folks! Be sure to tune in next time to Ghastly Interviews! See you next ti- (thud)  
> Sebastian: Take that you little *censored* *censored*-hole!


	3. Not So Happy Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written in honour of Halloween!

John had somehow managed to survive a few months, surrounded on all sides by the children of Classroom 221b. After he'd figured out that bribery was the best option for taming the little ogres, he'd gotten along pretty well with them. He also learned what they liked (not in the Irene Adler sort of way). He made a small list of what each student liked.

Lestrade like booze  
Irene liked... taking her clothes off and straddling the right leg of poor Sherlock  
Jeff liked cars  
Donovan liked punching Sherlock's face  
Anderson liked disemboweling rabbits  
Henry liked dogs, but not big ones  
Moriarty liked bodies, especially Sebastian's, which he used as a chair/pillow depending on his mood, he also enjoyed apples  
Sebastian liked shooting things, ranging from birds to important diplomats  
Mycroft liked sweets, especially cake  
Sherlock liked murders and pirates

Once he'd established what they liked, he could try to somehow bribe them into behaving.

It just so happened that Halloween was drifting ever so nearer and John had to put up with the agonizing task of decorating. Mrs. Turner of 222a sent over her married couple from her first grade classroom to help, but they ran out of the room, screaming like banshees giving birth. Apparently, Moriarty thought it would be funny to pull a gun on them. 

So John had to put up the decorations himself. Moriarty kept complaining about how lame Halloween was, and how he couldn't wait for Guy Fawkes day. Of course, John wasn't surprised by this. Who wouldn't be excited about a holiday named after a man who tried to burn down Parliament and kill the King?

On the day of the Halloween party, Moriarty blew up half the classroom with a bomb that he "thought" was deactivated.

"I swear! It wasn't supposed to blow up! It never did before!" Jim exclaimed, pretending to cry. And John had to admit, it was pretty damn convincing. 

The whole school had to evacuate the building, and John had to drag Sherlock out of the flaming classroom, as Sherlock wouldn't move at his own accord, because he was too busy collecting ash samples.

"They'll be useful on day! Ash samples!" Sherlock had screeched as he was pulled out by his miniature Belstaff coat collar.

And thus ended the Halloween party, and John's patience.


	4. Because We Want To (Not the Billie Piper Song)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Party while John's gone?  
> Definitely.
> 
> If you want to check out my blog written by John Watson's point of view, search up The Tumblr Blog of Doctor John H. Watson (bloggers-need-love-too) on Tumblr.

"Guys, guess what?" Sherlock whispered.  
"Wat?" Anderson asked, his face encrusted with bogies dating back to the Bronze Age.  
"John's out. Let's party." Moriarty said, grinning like a badger, if badgers could grin.  
"No... I meant let's host a wedding for me and the future John Watson-Holmes." Sherlock said, his voice faltering.  
"Who wants to party, and who wants to arrange a wedding for this bastard?" Moriarty asked.  
"Party." Donovan said.  
"Sorry Sherl, but I want to party." Janine, one of the new girls said, blushing furiously.

" _Fest._ " Charles Augustus Magnussen, a Danish exchange student said. 

Magnussen wasn't very good at speaking English yet, but he was getting there. 

"If Moriarty wants a party, I would go for wedding arrangements _any_ day. Definitely a wedding for me..." Mycroft said, crossing his arms.

"If Mycroft wants a wedding, I will too. Holmes always has the better ideas. He's the bloody British Government after all..." Lestrade said, blushing.

"Weddings are so romantic..." Shan, a Chinese exchange student said dreamily. "I approve of this wedding... thingy.

The other students started to put in their input, but the outcome was a tie, so they decided to play a game. _A great game._

The outcome?

Sherlock won, but nearly got shot by an angry Moriarty. If you would have been there, if you would have seen it, it would have gone something like this...

John had been tackled on his way to the classroom by Moriarty's personal assassin, Sebastian Moran. The kid who brought a fucking sniper rifle to school. Remember him? It was after hours, yet Sherlock was there, looking for his new hubby. He had emailed Moriarty (because he was too young to text.)

They would meet by the pool outside. The pool that was about a metre in diameter. 

"Maybe I should have worn a red carnation." Sherlock said loudly. "But then, you know what _I_ look like, don't you? It's me who's at a disadvantage."

There was no answer...

Sherlock held up a video game disc. The case read _Bloodborne._

"Little getting-to-know-you present. It's what the whole thing's been for, isn't it? All your little puzzles. Making me _dance._ All meant to distract me from _this._ You bought this M-rated game illegally, then you gave it to Joe Harrison, putting the blame on him!" Sherlock said.

The door that led to the playground opened. A dark silhouette moved stepped into the light...

"'Evening." 

Sherlock's heart broke right then and there. John, his John! _He_ was the big baddie?!

"This is a turn up, isn't it, Sherlock?"

Something was wrong. His voice, it was his voice. It was strange, not like his usual one...

"John? What the hell are you - ?"

"LANGUAGE SHERLOCK!" John snapped, before resuming his odd voice. "Bet you never saw this coming..."

Tears rolled down Sherlock's face. John! His John! _How?!_

John came closer to him. He was wearing a bulky overcoat, and then Sherlock saw it. Many lights flashed underneath it. The bombs were constructed mostly of legos and other stuff. Was that a clock that made animal noises? Yes, he could hear a distinct mooing noise coming from the bombs. John's face was pale and sweaty. Even though he acted calm, he was obviously under great stress. A red laser light danced over the bombs. 

"What would you like him to say next? Gottle of geer. Gottle of geer. Gottle - "

"Stop!" Sherlock screamed, his face red with anger.

"Nice touch this. The pool where little Carl died. I thought it was impossible to die in fourteen centimetres of water, but there you have it..." John said. "I stopped him laughing. I can stop John Watson too. Stop his heart."

"Who _are_ you?" Sherlock asked.

"I hung the legos from the ceiling, remember that? Before Halloween?" a new voice said.

"Moriarty. I knew it was a game, but I didn't expect you to try to kill my husband!" Sherlock said angrily. "I thought it was Jeff, or Irene, or Sebastian, or Shan, or - "

"I get the idea!" Moriarty bellowed. "Is that a squirt pistol, or are you just pleased to see me?" 

Sherlock pulled out Lestrade's lime green pistol.

"Both."

"I’ve given you a glimpse, Sherlock. Just a teensy glimpse of what I’ve got going on out there in the big bad world. I’m a specialist, you see. Like you." Moriarty said.

"Dear Jim, please could you fix it for me to dispose of my boyfriend’s nasty sister...? Dear Jim, please could you fix it for me to disappear to South America...?" Sherlock said, still pointing the gun at Jim's chest. The bombs on John's chest gave a faint moo.

"Just so." Jim said, grinning.

"A consulting criminal. Brilliant." Sherlock said quietly.

"Isn't it?" Moriarty asked with relish. "No-one ever gets to me." his voice turned icy and deadly. He glared at Sherlock. "And no-one ever will."

"I did." Sherlock said.

"You came the closest, but now you're in my way."

"Thank you."

"Didn't mean it as a compliment." Jim said.

"Yes, you did."

"Yeah, okay, I did. But the flirting’s over, Sherlock. Daddy’s had enough now. I’ve shown you what I can do. I cut loose all those people, all those little problems, even thirty million quid just to get you to come out and play. Did you like the Czech Republic thing? That’s what you might call a _leitmotif._ Had you going there, didn’t I? But take this as a friendly warning, my dear. Back off." Moriarty grinned. "You know, I’ve loved this. This little game of ours. It’s been a treat."

"People have died." Sherlock said angrily.

"THAT'S WHAT PEOPLE DO!!!" Jim said with utter contempt. 

"I will stop you." Sherlock said quietly.

"No. You won't."

Sherlock turned to John. "You okay?

John didn't move. He looked at Sherlock, fear in his eyes, yet he didn't answer.

"You can talk Johnny boy, go ahead." Jim said, a malicious gleam in his eyes.

John hated being powerless. He settled with a tight nod. The lasers continued to hover over the bombs. Sherlock looked at his hubby, and thrust out the game disc.

"Take it!" Sherlock said.

"What? Oh. _That._ An M-rated game? _Boring._ Could have picked them up any time." Moriarty took the _Bloodborne_ disk from the six year old kindergartner consulting detective, and promptly threw it into the pool.

Sherlock moved forward instinctively. John seized the distraction and picked up the consulting criminal. Now they're both a bomb!

"If your sniper pulls that trigger, Mr. Moriarty, we both go up. You are in big trouble. When we get back, you'll get a pop on the bottom." John hissed into Jim's ear. John's bombs moo again.

Jim was eerily calm as he was picked up in John's grasp.

"Isn’t he sweet? I can see why you like having him around. But then, people do get so sentimental about their pets. So touchingly loyal. But OOPS! you’ve rather shown your hand, there, Mr. Watson." Moriarty said. The laser moved off of John's chest and became trained on Sherlock's temple.

A new stand off. Sherlock with his water pistol trained on Jim. The explosives-festooned John with Moriarty in his arms. The sniper's laser trained on Sherlock. John slowly set down Jim and the laser resumed its dance on John's chest. 

Jim straightened his suit.

"Westwood." he said, indicating his suit. 

"Do you know what happens if you don't leave me alone, Sherlock? Do you?" Moriarty asked.

"Oh, let me guess. I'll be killed." Sherlock said.

"Killed, nah, don’t be obvious. I mean, I’m gonna kill you anyway, some day - don’t want to rush it, though, saving it up for something special. No, if you don’t stop prying, I will burn you. I will burn the heart out of you." Moriarty said.

"I am reliably informed I don't have one." Sherlock said, his water pistol still trained on the criminal.

"But we both know that's not quite true..." Moriarty said.

Jim looked around. "Well, I'd better be off." he wet his lips. "So nice to have a proper chat."

"What if I were to shoot you now? Right now?" Sherlock asked, his grip tightened on his water gun.

"Then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face." he made a surprised face. "Because I would be surprised, Sherlock. Really I would. And just a teensy bit disappointed. ‘Course, you wouldn’t be able to cherish it for very long."

He gave a cheerful wave.

" _Ciao_ , Sherlock Holmes!"

He walked toward the door.

"Catch. You. Later." Sherlock said through gritted teeth.

"No you won't!" Moriarty called back. He slammed the door behind him. 

There was a pause before Sherlock ran towards John and tore off the coat, bombs and all. The bomb vest mooed faintly as Sherlock slid it far away from them.

"Alright? You alright?" Sherlock asked, looking his hubby over.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. I'm fine! Sherlock - "

Sherlock walked over to the bomb jacket and kicked it maniacally. Over and over again.

"Sherlock!" John yelled, getting the kindergartner's attention.

Sherlock looked up.

"It's okay. I'm _okay._

Sherlock ran over to the door and threw it open. Jim was long gone. The corridor was empty.

"Jesus." John sighed. "You alright?" he asked Sherlock.

"Me? Fine. I'm fine." the six year old said, putting on a brave face. Sherlock glanced at John protectively. "That was... What you did... What you offered to do. That was..." he struggled to find the right word, "...good.

John looked at his ragged clothes. Sherlock had done a good job of tearing them off like a banshee. "Glad no-one saw that."

Sherlock looked up. "Hm?"

"You ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool. People might talk." John said.

Sherlock smiled. "People will talk. We're just married, John Watson-Holmes. We've got a wedding night and a sex-holiday to plan for..."

John's jaw dropped. "Oh fuck no."

"Oh fuck yes."


	5. What do you Collect?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John made an assignment for his students: Make a collection consisting of ten items or more.
> 
> Be sure to visit my Tumblr Page: bloggers-need-love-too (The Tumblr Blog of Doctor John H. Watson)  
> (Blog is written in John Watson's POV and is pretty canon. No Johnlock elements (Sorry, not sorry!))

"Listen up you little goblins," John said in his best military captain voice (which was pretty good), "I've got an assignment for you lot!"  
_"Overdragelse?"_ Magnussen asked.  
John pulled out his Danish-to-English dictionary and flipped through it. After a moment he said, "Yes, an assignment."  
"What _sort_ of assignment?" Moriarty asked.  
"You lot will need to make a collection consisting of ten or more items. I expect it by tomorrow." John said, pacing in front of the six and seven year old demonic shits.

"So, can it be anything?" Sebastian Moran asked, his eyes glinted red.  
"Almost anything. No human body parts allowed."  
Sebastian and Jim moaned in disappointment.  
"Awwwwww....  
"Can we bring toys?" Irene Adler asked.  
"Yes, you can bring toys."

The next day....

"Alright you little shitholes, who's going first?" John asked, clipboard in hand.  
Sherlock raised his hand.  
"Me first! Me first!" he said.  
"Sure. Whatever. Go ahead." John said, sitting down in the teacher's chair.

Sherlock pulled out a card-stock board with tiny bags stapled to it.  
"This is my Tobacco-ash collection." he pointed to multiple different samples. "Here's a Marlboro, here's a Marlboro Lite, and this is a - HEY!!!" Sherlock exclaimed as Moriarty pushed him out of the way. Sebastian Moran snickered.  
"Sherlock, you're soooo _boring!_ " Jim exclaimed. "Here's a real collection! Who cares about ash samples, when you can have _blood_ samples!" Moriarty said, pulling out multiple jars from his satchel. Each held about two litres and was filled to the brim with human life sauce.

"Uh... where did you get that?" Lestrade asked, as Mycroft ran off to the bathroom to vomit.  
"Fourteen different donors! But when I mean donors...." Moriarty's voice trailed off.  
"I helped him kill fourteen different people!" Sebastian said happily. "This is my collection!" he held up multiple pelts. The pelts included tiger, wolf, zebra, and something that looked suspiciously like human skin.  
"Oh... marvelous." John said, rolling his eyes. "How about we reorganize these presentations? Irene, you're up." 

Irene scurried to the front of the class carrying a plastic Tesco bag of multicoloured objects. She took out one of the objects, a bright, neon blue... dildo.  
"This is my toy collection! You said we could bring toys Mr. Watson!" she said, pulling out a riding crop, a pink bondage rope, and a butt cork with a dog tail sprouting from it.  
John hid his face in his hands. "I meant dolls or stuffed animals, not all the sex shop products in London." he groaned. "Put that stuff away. Anderson, you're up."

"This iz mai dizembowed wabbit cowection." Anderson said, his finger stuck in his nose. He pulled out two stuffed rabbits whose internal fluff was gone. Mind you, they didn't look much like rabbits, but more like really thin pieces of cloth held together by bogies and sellotape. Mycroft ran off the the bathroom to vomit, for the second time in ten minutes.  
"Very.... nice." John said, trying to ignore the putrid odour of sour milk and dog feces that emanated from the raggedy dolls. "Ugh! Lestrade, you're next."

"This is my collection of half-eaten donuts!" Lestrade said, holding up the box to John. Half the donuts were moldy, or already turning to dirt. In the corner was a fuzzy doughnut that looked suspiciously like a mouse. Guess what Mycroft did? John gagged on the stench, and shooed Greg away. "NEXT!!!"

Mycroft picked up a briefcase and walked towards the front of the class. He still looked slightly queasy but his face was set in a determined expression.  
"My name is Mycroft Holmes," he began in a brisk, business-like manner, "and my collection consists of thirty-nine items, all of which have something to do with umbrellas. I have only brought a few of these objects here with me, yet I believe that Sherlock can vouch for the others."  
Sherlock nodded earnestly.  
"Here's an umbrella tie-pin I own, and here's an umbrella plate, and here's some umbrella cufflinks." Mycroft said, holding up each object respectively. "Well, that's my collection. Good day to you, and thank you for letting me have your time." Mycroft said, sitting down beside Lestrade, who gave him a pat on the shoulder.

By the end of the day, Mycroft had vomited four times, Irene tried to put a cock ring on poor Sherlock, Lestrade and Mycroft started holding hands, Anderson broke half of Jeff's antique taxi collection (toy cars of course), and John sacrificed half of the collections to the devil (Donovan's lego swearwords, Lestrade's half-eaten donuts, Anderson's "rabbits", Jennifer Wilson's pulp romance novels, Magnussen's photos of naked John from his time at uni, and Moriarty's blood collection.) 

After work, John Watson took a cab to his flat, only to find Mycroft and Lestrade making out in the fridge.


	6. John Makes a File! Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John makes a file on each and every one of his students.

John sat at the kitchen table, a pen in his hand and a blank piece of paper in front of him. A stack of files were piled up to his right. He sighed. 

_Who do I start with first?_ he thought to himself. 

He had decided to write files on each of his students, which was an idea inspired by little Charles Augustus Magnussen, who had files on practically everyone in the UK, such as the Queen, the Prime Minister, Mycroft Holmes, Lady Elizabeth Smallwood, Daniel Radcliffe, Oliver Ainley, and McFly. Even those of little importance had a file made for them, which he stored in his so-called Appledore Vaults. John had been inspired by this, and decided to make files on his students, to know what they liked and disliked, how to work with them, their habits, and so on. 

NAME: William Sherlock Scott Holmes  
AGE: 6  
GENDER: Male  
SEXUALITY: Gay  
PICTURE:   
PERSONALITY: High-Functioning Sociopath, Rude at times, Protective  
HOBBIES: Deducing peoples entire lives, Being Clever, Saying he's clever, Playing the violin, Talking to Billy (his skull), Calling Mycroft fat (See File)  
LIKES: Playing the violin, Me (See File), Murders, Classical music, Morgues, Dead people, Puzzles, Mysteries  
DISLIKES: Cluedo, Chess, Mycroft Holmes(See File), Philip Anderson (See File), Sally Donovan (See File), Jim Moriarty (DEFINITELY SEE FILE)  
IQ: 190  
DATE OF BIRTH: 6/1/2011  
PRESSURE POINTS: Redbeard (See File), Irene Adler (See File), Jim Moriarty (See File), Hounds of the Baskerville, Opium, Me (See File)  
SIBLINGS: Mycroft Holmes M. I. 6 (See File), Eurus Holmes (See File)  
FAMILY: Wanda Holmes (Mother), Timothy Holmes (Father), Mycroft Holmes (Brother) (See File), Eurus Holmes (Sister) (See File)  
NOTES: I am unofficially married to him... apparently. Very clingy to me, and is very aggressive towards Jim Moriarty (See File) ever since the pool incident (See File). Needs more practice with social skills. Extremely intelligent when it comes to chemistry. Doesn't know that the Earth goes around the Sun.

NAME: Alexander Mycroft Chad Holmes (He calls himself Umbrella Cake Mycroft Holmes, however)  
AGE: 7  
GENDER: Male  
SEXUALITY: Gay  
PICTURE: Wouldn't let me take one, and deleted all the ones I had.  
PERSONALITY: Bossy, Distinguished, Sophisticated, Protective, Bossy  
HOBBIES: Polo, Jogging, Eating cake, Playing chess  
LIKES: Cake, Sweets, Umbrellas, Giving orders, Greg Lestrade (See File)  
DISLIKES: Operation, Sherlock's 'Go away Mycroft' concerto on the violin, Being called fat, Jim Moriarty (See File), Sebastian Moran (See File)  
IQ: 214  
DATE OF BIRTH: 17/10/2010  
PRESSURE POINTS: Sherlock Holmes (See File), Eurus Holmes (See File), Irene Adler (See File), Jim Moriarty (See File), M. I. 6, Bruce Partington Program  
SIBLINGS: Sherlock Holmes (See File), Eurus Holmes (See File)  
FAMILY: Wanda Holmes (Mother), Timothy Holmes (Father), Sherlock Holmes (Brother) (See File), Eurus Holmes (Sister) (See File)  
NOTES: Mycroft likes Greg Lestrade (See File). Found them making out in my fridge. He is currently working for M. I. 6. He looks out for Sherlock Holmes (See File). Is smarter than Sherlock.

NAME: Gregory (Greg) Lestrade  
AGE: 7  
GENDER: Male  
SEXUALITY: Bisexual  
PICTURE: Got sick on picture day, Mycroft (See File) wouldn't let me take a picture of him either.  
PERSONALITY: Loyal, Friendly  
HOBBIES: Mysteries, Playing detective, Shooting water guns, Playing copper  
LIKES: Mycroft Holmes (See File), Water pistols, Mysteries, Scotland Yard, Police  
DISLIKES: Jim Moriarty (See File), Sebastian Moran (See File)  
IQ: 126  
DATE OF BIRTH: 30/6/2010  
PRESSURE POINTS: Mycroft Holmes (See File), Cigarettes , That one girl he liked  
SIBLINGS: None  
FAMILY: Andrea Lestrade (Mother), Davin Lestrade (Father)  
NOTES: Pretty much worships Mycroft Holmes(See File), they made out in my fridge. Shoots his water pistol at everyone. Hates Jim Moriarty (See File).

NAME: James (Jim) Moriarty  
AGE: 6  
GENDER: Male  
SEXUALITY: Haven't the slightest  
PICTURE:   
PERSONALITY: EVIL INCARNATE  
HOBBIES: Evil Stuff, Using Sebastian Moran (See File) as a chair  
LIKES: Apple cuts, Murder, Gore, Corpses, Explosives, Sebastian Moran (See File)  
DISLIKES: Happiness, Normal people, Sherlock Holmes (See File), Mycroft Holmes (See File)  
IQ: 197  
DATE OF BIRTH: 21/10/2011  
PRESSURE POINTS: N/A  
SIBLINGS: John Moriarty (is in Ms. Hooper's class)  
FAMILY: Patrick Moriarty (Father), Alexandra Moriarty (Mother), John Moriarty (Brother)  
NOTES: LITTLE HOMICIDAL PSYCHOPATH. APPROACH WITH CAUTION!!!!

NAME: John Sebastian "Tiger Jack" Moran  
AGE: 7  
GENDER: Male  
SEXUALITY: N/A  
PICTURE:   
PERSONALITY: HOMICIDAL, EVIL LITTLE FUCKBALL  
HOBBIES: KILLING, HUNTING, MURDER, SKINNING, DISEMBOWELING  
LIKES: MURDER, MURDER, MURDER!!!  
DISLIKES: Happy people, Flowers, Living animals, Me (See File)  
IQ: 110  
DATE OF BIRTH: 23/8/2010  
PRESSURE POINTS: Living animals, Happy people  
SIBLINGS: Jason Moran (in Mrs. H's class)  
FAMILY: Lawrence Moran (Father), Elizabeth Moran (Mother), Jason Moran (Brother)  
NOTES: Murdered the front desk lady. Kidnapped me. 

John felt his eyes droop and headed to bed, he'd continue the rest of the files later.


	7. The Hound of the Wickerbasketvilles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pet day?
> 
> The story of John's hamsters was based off of my own hamster's fate. True story.

John should have seen this coming. Pet day. The day when all the kindergartners would bring a pet to school. Sherlock brought Redbeard the Irish Setter, a beautiful red dog of medium size. It was fairly calm and spent most of its time laying down, being adored by the children. John brought his pet hamsters, which became the class pets, that is until Moriarty starved them to the point of cannibalism. Poor Scrabble was mercilessly eaten by Chubs and Trap, much to John's horror. Trap then got a taste for hamster flesh and liked it. He devoured Chubs the next day. Molly, the _other_ kindergarten teacher, suggested that they combine classes for the day. Congrats Molly! You're an idiot! The moment Redbeard laid eyes on Molly's cat, Toby, it became pandemonium. Toby leapt up on Henry Knight's head, which made Redbeard charge at Henry. Henry, who still had Toby on his head, ran around, screeching and swearing as much as Donovan's pet parrot. 

Bob Frankland, a student from Molly Hooper's class, brought a massive scarred hound named Peppy. Peppy looked like a black Frankenweenie on steroids. Henry looked at the hound and froze.

John spent the rest of the day trying to make Donovan's bird shut up, and comforting Henry.


	8. Favourite Quotes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John documents the students' most used phrases.

Jim Moriarty - "MORNING BITCHFUCKS!!!"

Sebastian Moran - "Murder, murder, murder..."

Sherlock Holmes - "Bored."

Mycroft Holmes - "BAD SHERLOCK!!!"

Irene Adler - "Sheeeerrrrcooooocccckkkk!!!!! I'm Nakedddd!!!!"

Greg Lestrade - "Not my effing division."

Sally Donovan - "Fucking shitballs! Stupid cunt-faced losers! Goddammit!" 

Philip Anderson - "When I masturbate, I think of dinosaurs!"

Janine Hawkins - "Sher! Are you hiding from me?"

Charles Augustus Magnussen - "John? Can I flick you? Can I? Can I?"

General Shan - "Tong rhymes with Dong!!!"

Henry Knight- "Big dogs are scary."

Jeff Hope - "Do you want me to take the pill first? Or do you want to?"


	9. 221b's Anti-drug use policy (and the trouble it caused)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing like a nice rule to make every fucking child go ballistic.

John walked into the classroom where the children were. Mycroft and Lestrade were making a scene right out of a doujinshi novel, and the others were smoking.  
"That is it! That is bloody it!" John said, finally snapping for the first effing time.   
The students looked at him with open mouths, their fags falling out onto the floor. Sherlock's caught alight and set his trousers on fire.   
"What's it?" Anderson asked, two cigarettes stuck up his nostrils.  
"A creepy movie involving balloons and a clown named Pennywise." Donovan whispered.  
Anderson nodded sagely (if he could nod sagely, that is. I mean, come on, he's Anderson). "I see."  
Sherlock glared at the two. "What's it?" he asked. No-one interrupts his hubby.  
John put his head in his hands. "No more smoking is allowed in 221b."  
There was a noise that sounded vaguely like a toilet plunger being drawn from a sink. _SHWOOOP!_  
Mycroft looked up. "No fags?!" he exclaimed.  
"Not like you really smoked at all. Low-tar my arse." Sherlock said, rolling his eyes.  
"NO. SMOKING. AT. ALL." John said firmly. Sherlock and Lestrade both slapped on nicotine patches.  
"Well, mate," Lestrade said to Sherlock, 'we were prepared for this...."  
"I don't have any 'mates' accept John." Sherlock said in a serious tone. "None. At. All."  
"Woah dude, I meant it as in friend, not fuckbuddy."  
"JOHN IS NOT A FUCKBUDDY!"  
There was a silence. A complete and full silence. Suddenly, Mary Morstan, the school nurse, popped her head inside the door. "Who's not a fuckbuddy?"  
John blushed and shrugged. "Not me apparently."


End file.
